


Dance Dance Revolution

by MrProphet



Category: Assassin's Creed, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Phantom of the Opera was written by Gaston La Roux; Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.</p></blockquote>





	Dance Dance Revolution

“Kill her.” He says it so casually and then turns away, as if uttering the words is enough; as if by naming a thing he makes it so. How like a Templar.

It isn’t an entirely foolish assumption, of course. He has a dozen guards poised to obey him, and I we are just two girls; a singer and a dancer in the corps de ballet. That he faces an Assassin he knows, or he would not have given the order – he is arrogant and vainglorious, but not cruel – but there are two things that he does not know. The first is that the Assassin is not Christine Daae, and the second is how good a dancer I am.

How could he? The art of it is to make it seem easy.

When you dance, you are surrounded by moving bodies. You must keep your part, match your movements to your partner and to the other dancers on the stage with you; you must be aware of everyone around you at once.

We are on the stage now. Three guards face us directly with drawn swords and three line each of the two main aisles with pikes in hand. The first three are within arm’s reach; easy. The pikemen are almost useless, kept in place by the seats on either side of them. The danger comes from the three guards in the stalls who are covering us with rifles. For now they can’t shoot through the swordsmen on stage, but that will soon change.

One of the swordsmen moves in and Christine screams. I step in front of her and begin the dance.

He lunges, I sidestep; my hand touches his wrist just so and he loosens his grip on the sword. We circle fast – too slow and I leave my back open – and when we come back I have the sword. I drop in a curtsey and thrust upwards.

A second swordsman approaches for an excuse me and I swap partners, but this cannot be a long engagement. The rifles are bearing on Christine and the Mentor will be displeased if he needs to find a new mask. I step past my partner’s guard and draw his comrade into a pas de trois, first pulling close, then opening the dance to block the shooters’ aim once more.

A bullet whistles past me and the crowd of pikemen are trying to storm the stage. I draw one of my swains in close and turn his thrust just enough to slide past me, into the man trying to strike me from behind. The blade springs free at my wrist and stops the heart of the third swordsman.

My latest swain is an officer and a gentleman, and I take a favour from his belt as he falls; a Colt Navy revolver. The first pikeman is too pushy in his demand that we dance, so I shoot him down.

Christine and I are both open to the rifles again, so I fire once more and drop in a grand ecart – Madame would be shocked to see me go to ground in a split like some flashy chorus girl, but as a bullet slips over my head I know I will find the strength to endure any lecture. Christine screams again as my second shot finds its mark and splinters the stop for the stage trap, dropping her through into the net before the other two rifles can silence her.

Mama is right; she has a fine voice now, but no poise.

I pull up in a rond de jambe, surprising another pikeman with the blade in my pointe shoes – a little innovation of my own of which I am rather proud – before sweeping up a fallen sword to engage in a complex pas de cinque – again, Madame would despair of such irregularity.

Pikemen are difficult to get past, but if you can persuade them to dance close they are far less of a threat. If these four stand off and surround me while the riflemen reload, I will be in real trouble, but I have a pistol and that causes them to be careless. A blow to the arm would make me drop the revolver, but instead I face a straight thrust which I turn on my blade. Now I have a pike between me and two of my attackers and I can close, firing behind me to keep the other two at bay.

I drop the pistol as I engage with a demi detourne and a sword to the back of the knee, finishing with a quick swipe across the throat as the pikeman falls. I plié and then jete over the body and slide my wrist blade into the fourth pikeman’s side.

Now we are three on the stage, but the audience is restless and their rifles reloaded. I throw the sword end over end with all of my strength. It vanishes into the shadows and there is a moment’s pause as they wonder if I am surrendering, then the great chandelier comes crashing down on the riflemen.

I pirouette and send the knives hidden in my bodice flashing out to the throats of the remaining pikemen.

Only one enemy remains now. He could have escaped during the fight, but he stayed, frozen in shock perhaps. Now he runs, but too late. In a frankly bravura display of glissade I practically float across the seat backs after him while my hand seeks the length of catgut in its hidden pocket. I snap my hand forward and the Punjab lasso falls perfectly around his neck, ten paces ahead of me.

My feet plant squarely on the seat backs and the dance is over; what remains is neither artistic nor graceful. The Comte de Chagny chokes and flops his last like a dying fish as I drag him back to the stage. He will be found, in time, another man who thought he could destroy a legend and fell victim to the Opera Ghost, and his brother will marry the woman the Mentor has prepared for the task. That, however, is but a step in a much larger dance. 

One day I may be a master choreographer and shape such dances myself. For now, I am just Little Meg, one more girl in the chorus.

**Author's Note:**

> The Phantom of the Opera was written by Gaston La Roux; Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.


End file.
